


The Best Revenge

by httpsawesome



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Combeferre works at a phone sex hotline but no sex happens, M/M, Meet-Cute, Others are mentioned but don't appear - Freeform, at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12989739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpsawesome/pseuds/httpsawesome
Summary: Grantaire, after making the decision to move out, takes revenge on The Worst Roommate by using their information to dial a hotline and quickly gets distracted by conversations of moths and of shared friends.“Hey, baby.” The truthfully attractive voice started through the phone.“Oh my god, your voice is so fucking deep dude.” Grantaire immediately said, breaking any sort of sexy tone that had been set. “It could be the voice over for National Geographic.”





	The Best Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> The original idea for this fic was Murdoctrinated over at tumblr - they post a lot of Combeferre/Grantaire stuff and also Gorillaz stuff.  
> http://murdoctrinated.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also I totally could have used this idea to go into actual sexy territory, but I refuse as I really don't like to write that. So you know, have a funny.

Grantaire considers himself a pretty decent roommate. At least, not the fucking worst. He’s currently living with the worst, and he can explain in lists:

3rd worst: Jake, who had the exact opposite work schedule that Grantaire did. They never crossed each other’s paths in the 4 months, and the only reason he knows that there’s a third roommate is because Jake always blasts music when he’s getting ready for work. Always the night shift. Always when Grantaire is trying to go to sleep.

Still, he doesn’t leave a mess and he never gets into Grantaire’s business. Jake is his personal favorite.

2nd worst: Andrey. Leaves passive aggressive post-it notes on the dirty dishes instead of doing them. Never thanks Grantaire when he does them himself. Constantly asking Grantaire personal questions and is really determined to get him to attend church. Once made the mistake and asked him why he had a French name. Overall is on the sweet side. Will never want to invite him for drinks.

And the title for the worst roommate he is currently living with: Gregory. And yes, Grantaire calls him Gregory because you must always refer to assholes in their full title. Gregory, who claims to have a job but stays in most days of the week. Who sits in the living room as if he doesn’t give a fuck that anyone else would want to use the living room TV or that he isn’t sitting playing video games in his underwear. Gregory, who is vocally homophobic and the reason Grantaire is moving out before the end of the month, fuck the money he spent on rent.

Gregory also is always late with the rent! He’s just overall horrible and irredeemable.

Which is why, when Grantaire is all packed and ready to leave after only saying goodbye to Andrey, he notices Gregory’s wallet. Looking inside, it had his credit card in it. See, if Grantaire was a good person without a petty bone in his body, he would just leave it.

But then he remembers Gregory casually using. . . words about him. Not to his face but to Andrey, who scoffed and didn’t do anything that reassured that Grantaire should stay. So he decides fuck it. He’s going to use this asshole’s card and there’s nothing in him that is going to regret it.

 

“Hey, baby.” The truthfully attractive voice started through the phone.

“Oh my god, your voice is so fucking deep dude.” Grantaire immediately said, breaking any sort of sexy tone that had been set. “It could be the voice over for National Geographic.”

“Thank you?” He sounded sincere and thank heavens that his voice is that naturally deep and not because he’s putting on an act.

“Seriously, I can imagine you spouting a bunch of facts about animals and insects and shit.” Grantaire flopped down on the loveseat and started to relax - it was rare he got to be alone in the living room and he was going to take advantage of that. “Do you know any facts about animals?”

“Well,” He sounded like he was just going through the motions of this conversation. “I know a lot about moths?”

“Let me hear them, my man.”

“Well, for starters, moths are a lot more important than people give them credit for.” This guy starts, and it’s like if Grantaire is going to get him talking about moths then he’s going to make it worth his money. “They’re pollinators and it’s unfair that people just think of them as not-butterflies.”

“Fuck butterflies.” Grantaire says in his stance in solidarity. “Can you tell me about the moths that look like fluffy Cheetos?”

“I think you’re talking about the Jewel Moths. I have a friend that calls them that too.” The chuckle in his voice is very audible and very cute.

“You know what they say about great minds.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” The smirk is more audible than the chuckle.

“Well damn, I was hoping you did. Cause I sure don’t.” He smirked back. “Anyway, about the jewel encrusted Cheeto moths.”

 

They ended up talking for close to 2 hours (costing Gregory $269, which he will then explain to the bank that it wasn’t him spending all that time on Hot Single Men’s Hotline) and Grantaire did end up getting to know his name. Eventually.

“I try to not make it a habit to share my real name to customers.” The guy says.

“See, which I personally don’t like that line of thinking at the moment, it’s the smart thing to do.”

“It never led me astray before.”

“Fuck me, you use words like _astray_ in a conversation and expect me to be able to say goodbye? That’s just cruel.”

“I think you’ll live.” The man teases.

“Ah, but what do I hear in your voice? The tiniest shift in tone?”

“Well, a change in pitch is often done unconsciously, but I think it’s more like you just heard audio feedback.”

“No, I think I think I heard something. Could it be that you are just as distraught at the idea of never hearing from me again?”

“Could it be that you need to get your hearing checked?”

“How you wound me.” Grantaire made sure to put in a lot of fake pain in his voice. “But I have an idea. Can you access Facebook?”

“I’m not supposed to while I’m working.” Which isn’t a no.

“If you can hold out until the end of your shift against the growing curiosity of seeing your possible dream man, then I won’t hold it to you to do it right now. But you can totally find me on Facebook.”

“I’m never one to turn off my curiosity. I’m logged in.” And Grantaire could laugh at how quickly he turned, but mostly he just started thinking this wasn’t the best idea. His profile picture is a picture of him and his old cat and frankly? It’s the only flattering picture he thinks he’s taken of himself.

It helps that Suits is just adorable.

“Alright, look up Jean Grantaire.” He tells attractive voice man. “I’m sure there’s not that many people with that name, but find the one with the tuxedo cat in the profile.”

“Alright, I think I found - you.” There was a distinct Pause. Grantaire didn’t like the Pause and he desperately hopes that it isn’t a reaction to his face.  

“Do you see Suits?”

“His name is Suits?” He asks like he came out of a small trance.

“Yeah, I think it suits him.” And he gave the same shitty grin he always does when he says that. Too bad attractive voice man can’t see it, as it’s half of the joke. “Well, it suited him. He was never actually mine, he just got lost and I had him for a week and fell in love. I’m not sure what his real name is.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He seemed incredibly distracted “Are you the one with the curls?”

“And the acne, that’s me!” He said with fake enthusiasm. He didn’t make a move to get off his back, but he was tempted to go to his laptop to scroll through his own page. He never actually moved to that, since he knows he would just feel worse knowing which horrible photo he could be looking at.

“Your Halloween costume is cute.” Attractive voice man says, possibly just because Grantaire fell silent and he didn’t want to make it awkward.

“The one from last year?”

“The one where you were a witch. With the um - “ he coughed “the full face of makeup?”

“Oh yeah, I remember that.” He thought back to that night. “My friend took ten minutes to make me look like I came straight out of a 2009 MCR concert that had a Salem theme. Makeup is weirdly fucking uncomfortable? I don’t know how they do it every day.”

“Mmhmm.” Which even though Grantaire only knew him for an hour and a half, is weirdly out of character for this articulate and intelligent Hotline Man.

It’s silent for almost a minute, where Grantaire feels like he’s about to wriggle uncomfortably out of his skin. “You know, silence is not always the most comforting thing when you’re - “

“Is that Bahorel?” Attractive voice man interrupts him with possibly the most unexpected question he could have asked. Except for perhaps “Hang on, could you perhaps wait a moment while I take care of this zombie stripper that my Even-More-Attractive-Than-My-Voice husband bought for me?”

“Um, possibly?” Grantaire supplied. “I mean, my best friend is Bahorel. I don’t know how many Bahorel’s there are on my profile. Do you know him?”

“How many Bahorel’s are there in the _world_?” Attractive voice man asks, and yes, that’s a valid question. “Is this the same man that is just as likely to win a bar fight as he is to stay inside and marathon Project Runaway?”

“Holy shit, you know Bahorel.” Grantaire whispers in awe. “Actually, now I think I should fight him for not introducing us at any point in our friendship.”

“No offense, but I don’t think it’s a very even fight.” Attractive voice man teases.

“Oh, don’t let my wiry frame fool you. I taught Bahorel everything he knows about boxing, there’s no way he would win against me in the ring.”

“You box?” He asks, sounding way more interested than someone asking about Grantaire’s life really should be.

“I sure do. And I would go into detail about it, but I feel like that would be unfair.”

“How so?” Attractive voice man sounds sincerely disappointed. Maybe he’s that deeply committed to the idea of fairness that he can’t believe he would do anything unfair.

“It is strikingly unfair that you should know more about me than I know about you, especially finding out that we have mutual friends and I am decidedly _not_ a creepy stalker.”

“I don’t know, Bahorel doesn’t always make friends with the best people.” Attractive voice man had a light and teasing tone, but Grantaire could hear him loudly clacking on the keys.

Grantaire was indigent. “Bahorel is friends with everybody!”

“That’s kind of my point.” he laughs “Alright. I sent a request, but I probably spent too long distracted already and I’m most likely going to get told off by someone.”

“Holy shit, this _worked_?” Grantaire asked, mostly to himself. “Wait, hold on, let me - “ he was struggling to retrieve his laptop from his bag, since most of his shit was packed away, but when he finally got it free and opened it and he got distracted by another revelation. “Wait, is that really the time?”

“Most likely.” Attractive voice man snarks.

“I was actually supposed to meet Bahorel thirty minutes ago, holy shit.”

“Well, maybe you can treat this as punishment for not introducing us earlier, so you won’t have to get horribly defeated in a fight.” He teases.

“Damn, I can’t do something like that to Bahorel. He’s amazing.”

“Absolutely.” He agreed without hesitation, because Bahorel is that good of a friend.”

“Of course, all of this can be prevented if you agree to meet up with me for coffee.” Grantaire smirked.

Attractive voice man just sighed good humorously. “Let’s start with being Facebook friends and let’s see where it goes.”

 

 

Grantaire did eventually say goodbye, and he did eventually see Bahorel, and he did eventually find out that Attractive voice man is a very attractive man named Combeferre, who did eventually agree to meet for coffee.

“You know, I’m so glad you can stop calling you attractive voice man in my head.” Grantaire told him, and Combeferre will later blame his glasses fogging up on his coffee in front of him and not his face heating up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Again, original credit to Murdoctrinated, and I will post another link bc I like to be thorough.  
> http://murdoctrinated.tumblr.com/


End file.
